My husband Hated My Name

own the aisle like a

ke they were trying to warn me. Along both walls stood men in black coats with their hands folded in front of

voice cracked on my

ed myself in the car that I would not cry in front of the Vargas. I kept my eye

, so quietly the organ almost covered it,

our whole

only one I

d to put Viktor Varga in prison. Viktor died there two winters later. Since then our families had buried four Whitlocks and six Vargas, and I had stopped counting funera

ess that cost more than my car, walking towa

yself for it. He was tall and dark-haired with a jaw that looked like it had never been asked to relax. His eyes were a flat winter

t my father, and what I saw in his expression was not anger. Anger wo

control. When I met her stare, she let her gaze travel slowly from my veil down to my shoes, the way a tailor me

, pleasant smile on his face. Desmond smiled at everything. He smiled at christ

old man with trembling hands, and he ke

id yes when I was supposed to. I turned when I was told to turn. I slid a ring onto a finger that did not help me do

Elias, take you, Nadia, to be my wife." His voice was low and even. It was the voice of s

o be had or held. I said my own vows in a v

ss the bride,"

d. Even the radiators see

He tilted my chin up with two fingers, not gently and not roughly, the way you would inspect somethin

, and what he said was meant

mily burn," he whispered. "Smil

photographer's flash went off, and I did what I had bee

mile of my life.

in the church on the back of my neck. I looked for my father and found him in the front pew with his head i

all. She was looking at the guests behind me, the faces in th

I had been a wife for forty seconds, and I was fairly sure